RWBY: Defiance
by Changling96
Summary: It's true that Fate makes all the decisions. But what if you're unhappy with those choices? Can you find the strength to defy? Focus on OC with original plot mixed into cannon. Includes strong language and violence with heavier gore in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Her

I shake my head back and forth a bit to try and shake the grogginess away from me. I guess the rhythmic crunch of fresh snow being broken by my walking almost lulled me to sleep. I shouldn't be suprised, I had been walking for the last four hours straight. Well maybe not that long. I'd taken a half an hour "break" at some point. It had taken twenty minutes to quell the rage that had been brewed inside myself. Taken five minutes to clean my katana.

In five minutes, those five long minutes was all it took to kill the entirety of the assault team that had been sent after me. They were thirty of the most experienced, skilled and battle-hardened men we had. None of that had mattered. No amount of training could prepare them for the business end of my blade. Five minutes turned them into disfigured and mangled bodies on top of snow heavily stained with crimson.

Remembering what had happened must have ticked something off inside my head as I feel my hand subconsciously grab the handle of my sword. Looking down, the black blade, along with my black trench coat and scarf, seems to only force me to think of what I had done. I left.

I abandoned the only people I knew. I slaughtered their pitiful attempt at a quick vengeance for my defection. I guess the higher-ups weren't too pleased about my litter walk-out on them. Weren't too pleased when one of their top operatives said "I'm done with this madness". Well that's what happens when you leave a group of wolves. Suddenly blood-thirsty wolves I might add.

Shadow walker. I could never decide on whether I hated or loved that title of sorts. While perfectly descriptive of myself and the majority of the member of the Dusk, it didn't exactly have the cleanest of backgrounds. It was a cursed legacy that marked those it gifted. It was dark. Dark and covered in blood. Kind of like my current appearance.

This snaps me out of my thoughts. I'm going to need to do something about my appearance. If I showed up to Vale in my current look, no doubt every hunter and huntress would take notice. They'd also take notice of the nearest weapon locker, Dust dealer and spare mercenary this side of Remnant. It's no wonder, with how profitable Vale made the witch-hunt style raids against Shadow walkers, that hearing of someone making it past 25 is next to non-existant. If my dark look and even darker katana did not give me away, the occasional crackle of black-blue lighting that represented my flared Aura would. I'm going to need to hide a lot about myself once I reach civilization. Joy.

I notice the blizzard that has been hiding my trail so well slowly begin to die down. And it hasn't just been keeping myself out of eyesight. My heightened Aura allows me to sense that presence.

That dreadfully familiar presense.

The foreboding presence that stalks all living things. Maybe it's my inner Darkness that lets me notice it. See it. Oh and who ever thought the man with the scythe was only bones was wrong. He actually looks pretty good with all things considered.

Except for the smile. That beautifully massive smile he always has plastered across his face.

I know that I'll never be able to forget that face. Consider it the curse of staring down Death and walking away from him.

And I haven't stopped walking since.

Because I know that stopping is meaningless.

Beacuse attempting to remember those I've killed would be a waste of time. It would simply take too long.

Because attempting to apply logic to my situation would just result in my own death.

Because the reality of possibly being one of the most wanted people in Vale is only half my fault.

Because I know I'll never be able to fully wipe away the blood of those I've crossed from my mind, body, or blade.

Becuase I've continually lived my life going against the Alpha AND the Omega.

Because I exist

in

Defiance.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1: Bad Impersonations

_2 years later_

Her

The medium-loud chatter that you find in bars like the one I'm currently in is my favorite level. I can chow down on the plate of food in front of me on the countertop and filter through the dozens of conversations for anything remotely useful. One group of loud-mouthed idiots catches my attention. I had my eye on them ever since they walked through the door a few minutes ago.

"So Storm how'd that last contract go?" One of the guys asks. His question is directed at what look like the leader of those misfits, complete with feet on table.

"I crushed those Faunus scum. They thought they could hide down in the Industrial district. HA. Those idiots never saw me coming" 'Storm' says, completing his statement with a quick cut across his throat.

I'm about to divert my attention back to my meal when the barkeeper speaks up. He must have overheard what those idiots were babbling about. Well, considering he's my best informant, it's not too surprising.

"You ain't Storm" he says, cleaning a glass in his hands.

"You say something punk?" 'Storm' stands up. I can see the rest of his crew snickering to themselves.

"I said you ain't Storm, you got some problem with your hearing?"

"Of course I'm Storm. Who else is enough of a badass to be him?" 'Storm' sweeps his arms out in front of himself.

The bartender laughs shortly before responding. "And just what makes you so sure Storm's a 'he'?"

I freeze mid-chew. Putting my fork and knife down, I grab a fiece of paper and a pencil. I quickly write out: 'You little shit' before folding the paper and placing it under my coaster.

'Storm' seems to be taken back a bit. "You see I just so happen to know Storm. Storm wouldn't talk shit like you do. Storm wouldn't even give you scum the time of the day" I sigh as the barkeeper verbally bashes this moron.

'Storm' and his crew all walk up to the bar's countertop. Given their facial expressions and the fact that about half of them are drawing their weapons, this is gonna get ugly. Most of the conversations in the bar have died off now. Any regular at this place knows that the barkeepr is a well-know informant for many mercenaries and hunters. People like myself, however, know that he's also a CQC expert. In the past, I've joked that I'd be more cmforted seeing him with a Dust rifle pointed at me than if he was bare handed.

I force my attention back to the food on my plate, knowing that this situation would be resolved without my interference. But, with my luck, that doesn't happen.

"You wanna say that again?" 'Storm' says with a face contorted with anger.

"I could or I could just say that _she_ is right over there" the barkeeper says, pointing his thumb directly at me.

It's at this point that all conversation at the bar stops. I can feel almost fifty pairs of eyes drilling into the back of my head. excluding the daggers coming from my left. I, keeping up appearances, casually continue to work on my meal. I'm almost done with it too when I hear the bigot himself start walking over to me. Joy.

"THIS is who you think Storm is? _THIS_ bitch?" 'Storm' starts laughing to himself. "Fucking pathetic" are the words he ends with before reaching over and drawing his sword.

The sound of a blade being drawn sharpens my focus. As he brings his sword back to slash me, I think of a simple choice: light or heavy.

Light or heavy

Light

or

'Heavy'

*CRASH*

'Storm' stumbles backwards, confused as to what just transpired. The girl that, just a second ago, was about to get her head cut off had just pulled a medium-length heavy sword out of thin air. Considering that I'm not a magician, I stand up (only after finishing my food, naturally) and calmly stare him down, slowly returning the blade from my left hand to its sheath on my right hip.

I sigh loudly, "Yes I am Storm, in the flesh" answering his previous question.

One of his crew must have decided that he wanted to join the "Sitting on the floor looking like a dumbass" club because I hear someone lunge at me from the right.

This time, I go with 'light'.

I grab the correct blade from the sheath on my left hip and pull the thin twin of my previous sword out, deflecting the assailant's strike before quickly bashing the back of his head with the bottom of the hilt.

As their buddy goes crashing to the floor, the rest of the band of idiots decide to form a semi-cirvle around me, trapping me between them and the bar's countertop.

I unbutton the bottom half of my trench coat, revealing the two sheaths. Calling them sheaths would be an insult, though, considering that each one houses a light and heavy blade as well as some extra tricks in case I need one in a seriously strong looking metal case. I nicknamed them my "Boxes".

I point the one light blade I have already out at half the group and draw my second light blade at the other half. I smirk. "I'm so glad I found others who don't use diplomacy" I whisper to myself.

The group looks amongst themselves and I can feel my internal clock ticking down to when this brawl will erupt.

3

The entire group begins to face me.

2

I don't give them that luxury.

1

I hear the satisfying crunch of a broken jaw as the flat of my blade connects with someone's face. I continute the assault by bringing my leg up and swiftly dislocate a second man's knee. The breaking of bone must have snapped the remaining men out of their dazes as they finally decide to attack.

The first one goes down after a parry, spin and punch to the face.

The second goes down after a block, knee to the gut and a bash with both hands to the back of the head.

The third decides to pull out a Dust pistol. I can see him lining up the shot and spin out of the way. I put my food down, line up the sheath on my right hib and pull the trigger underneath the guard on my left blade.

Just above where the two blades are housed, there is a small barrel that slightly sticks out of the steel frame. That barrel roared to life as the firing mechanism in the bakc sent a single round down it.

One moment, the man is holding the pistol attempting to aim at my blurry form. The next, he's on the floor writhing in agony from the bullet that had connected with his right arm.

Putting away my swords, I walk up to my impersonator who seems to have forgotten how to talk.

"Waa- How? -urF"

He makes some interesting noises as I grab him by the collar and drag him to his feet. I bring his face up to mine and stare directly into his eyes.

"Get out"

"Fuckin old man"

The barkeeper starts laughing again after he picked up my coaster. I, being the good little mercenary I am, stayed at the bar after it was promptly shut down for the night and helped clean up.

"Aw come on. A little birdy told me that you had been spending a lot of time down in the communal forge Downtown. Rumor has it you were sporting some heavy-duty equipment a few days ago leaving it. I wanted to see your new gear in action and I saw a rather perfect opportunity. Can't blame me for being curious now can you" He says with a grin.

"Next time you decide to use me to clean up your bar, I'm going to fucking charge you for it" I respond, downing the glass of water in my hand afterwards, "And I'll expect compensation for cleaning it as well, I'm a mercenary not your dam maid".

"Dully noted, now" he pauses, "what can I get for you?"

I pause for a second, "Already ate" is the response I come up with.

"Ah, so you're finally here because of my dashing good looks and personality are you?" He replies, sarcasm slathered across every word.

"You wish I was" I respond dryly while pulling out an envelope, "I'm here for more of a special request. Figuring out who this man is and what he does was already public information but there's something else I want to know".

I hand him the envelope.

"I want to know how powerful this guy's information web is"

He opens the envelope and reads the single word written inside.

And that's when he resumes laughing.

"Oh Storm, I don't even need to go to the back to give you your answer" he says, slowly leaning over the countertop. "Just assume that whatever it is you think he might know, he does. This man's abilities have carried him to where he is now so just operate like everything is out in the open".

I sigh. "Well this is just great, everything out in the open huh" I stand up, "As much fun as its been, I should run along now". I start walking to the door.

"Good luck out there Storm" I hear a shredder operating in the background.

I nod my head and leave the bar, my brain already preparing itself for the next month or so.

Walking down the streets of Vale, I reach into my pocket and pull out a letter I had received a week ago. It was a letter telling of my acceptance to Beacon.

Tucking the letter back into my pocket, I only had one question about the man on the envelope.

"What kind of fucking name is Ozpin anyways?"

_Elsewhere_

A fist slams into a desk, which is currently occupied by a man whose gray hair and glasses betray his age. The fist belonged to a rather angry secretary of his.

"Why in the world did you think that letting _HER_ into this school would be a good idea?!"

"Now Goodwitch..."

"NO, it's bad enough that we have _ONE_ dangerous felon that you accepted this year but I will not allow a _SECOND_"

"Listen Glynda, we've been lucking in the past but my sources are telling me that organizations like the White Fang and the Dusk are beginning to organize. Now why would I miss out of the chance to have defectors from each organization join our ranks? They could supply us with an invaluable amount of information"

"But there's a good chance that she's unstable. The fallout if she losses control is something that I will not take responsibility for"

"Two years..."

"Huh?"

"Tell me, when was the last time we had a report of a Shadow walker within Vale?" He barely waited for a response, "Well she's been operating here in Vale for the last two years and we've heard nothing"

"But how do we know that she'll be willing to fight Shadow walkers?"

"Two years ago, one of our scouts reported a strange even out in the frozen wastelands. He said he spotted a female Shadow walker walking around, only to have her get ambushed by a large squad of Shadow walkers. The scout claims that the woman slaughtered the squad without taking a hit. To me, it sounds like she is more than willing to face them"

"But-"

Now if your little tantrum is done, do you mind letting me get back to work?"

Glynda scowled but quickly left shortly after. Ozpin opened his scroll again and opened a file under the name of Alice 'Storm'. After scanning the contents for the umpteenth time, he still only had one question on his mind.

"What kind of name is 'Storm'?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

_Him_

The usual blurriness that normally accompanied this suddenly routinely dream was gone this time. It had started out with brief flashes; the clash of metal, the darkness that surrounded us, but always that figure. It had been too vague in the past dreams to see anything. But now I was certain, that figure was definately feminine. Nothing but her long black hair with gray streaks betrayed this though, as from previous split-second clashes I had I could tell that she was powerful. Despite how strong I felt during these dreams, I could tell that we were in different leagues when it came to fighting.

With my head finally clear enough to be able to take action, I quickly take inventory. I look down and notice that I'm wearing... a black trench coat? Getting a feel for it, I can tell that it's been worn heavily as parts of it have been damage by slashes and even some gunshots. Not to mention it feels a bit snug. Farther down, I see two katanas strapped to my left hip. This is where I'm really wondering what's going on in this dream. In all the previous dreams, I had been using my usual katana. And while I knew how to utilize my Aura to enhance my weapon, these felt different. These swords felt alive.

The one that was closest to my hip appeared to be my "main" or at least older of the two blades seeing as its sheath was directly connected to a leather band that wrapped fully around my hips. The other blade and its sheath were attached to the leather band, it's thinner leather wrapped around the larger band making it look more like an add-on than my weapon of choice. I reach down for the first sword and draw it, giving me a complete look at it.

The entire edge of the sword was a light shade of blue with the back of the blade slowly shifting to a dull black. The hilt was black with white accents. The metal of the blade was cold to the touch and the sword itself seemed more than just receptive to my Aura as just a bit of it caused the entire weapon to shimmer a shade of gray.

The sound of another sword being drawn snaps me out of my thoughts and forces me to focus. In the past, her weapon was like herself: a black blur that just barely resembled a sword. But the clarity of this dream allowed me to see it in its entirety.

The straight, medium length sword that she had kept across her back was currently in her right hand, slightly aimed towards myself. The entire sword, from the blade to the hilt was black save for what looked like the cylinder of a revolver that was placed just above where the guard should have been.

She then holds the sword straight at me in just her right hand, informing me that she was waiting.

Slowly, I breathe in and out once. Then twice. That calms my nerves enough for this fight. I raise my blade and get into my stance.

We just stand there for a few seconds. I can feel my heart beating with anticipation.

*_THUMP_*

We both take a half step back, tensing ourselves for the first strike.

*_THUMP_*

She makes the first move, beginning to run forward with her sword making an overhead slash.

*_THUMP_*

I dash ahead, bringing my right hand down and holding the tip of the sword behind me.

*_THUMP_*

As the distance between us shrinks, I start to bring my sword around with the purpose of an uppercut. She raises her sword so that it is pointed skyward.

*_THUMP_*

Her sword begins its decent, threatening to cut me in two as we approach striking distance. I adjust the angle of my attack so that my slowly rising blade cuts on a diagonal.

*_THUMP_*

Our swords close in on each other; her's is almost level with my face as I'm just inches away from knocking away her blade.

*_THUMP_*

*CLASH*

I jet out of my bed, almost groaning in anticipation of the pounding headache that I would receive in a second or two. Or that's what I thought, seeing as my head isn't currently committing suicide. Given that I can think straight for the first time in a week after waking up, I check my clock to see what ungodly hour I had woken up at this time. I'm pleasantly surprised to see that it's actually 5:20. I actually don't think I would have ever thought that I would say that.

Seeing as going back to sleep isn't going to happen for me, I get up and walk down the hallway to the bathroom. Splashing water over my face gets rid of what sleepiness that I had left. I wipe my face dry with a nearby towel and look into the mirror. Reflected back at me is a look that I had assumed only a few years ago. After awakening my very ice affiliated Aura, I had woken up the next morning to find my usually brown hair dyed a silvery-white. Upon closer inspection, my mother noted that my once dark green eyes were now a greenish-blue. That winter, I discovered that my Aura made me next to impervious to the cold. I would often wear a jacket and scarf to get past my parents before taking them off and stowing them way for my return home.

While I had my childish moments in the past, I seemed to grow up much faster than my peers. Most teens in my small town were just barely being allowed outside the walls to start practice on live Grimm. I had been, err, "exploring" the woods outside my town for the last two years or so. No one but myself knew about this though as: 1. it was illegal and 2. my parents would never let me hear the end of it if they found out. In those wooods, I trained heavily with the katana that I had forged after my awakening: Jagged Frost. As I was working on my Grimm fighting techniques, I faked my way through the small Hunter training school that my town used to fill the ranks of its militia. I made sure that I would place in the middle of my grade in almost all aspects. My initial plan was to graduated from the school and immediatly leave before I got swept up into the militia, with my supposedly average rankings making me a ghost amongst the leaders of it.

My plan would have worked too, if it wasn't for a teacher, that had suspicion that I was holding back, discovering me losing my cool and utterly wiping the floor with one of the top placing students in the school. I snicker as I remember the look on his face when he realized that he chose the wrong person to increase his rank off of. Said teacher gave me the choice of either being turned over to the staff for disciplinary action, followed by an immediate re-evaluation by the militia leaders or to apply to Beacon. I simply adjusted my plans for the future slightly and chose the latter.

A month before my summer break ended, I received my acceptance letter to Beacon. That was two weeks ago; the dreams started a week ago.

This reminds me of why I'm not going back to sleep: I need to sneak across the wall in order to continue my training for Beacon. I walk back to my room and change out of my sleepwear, putting on my usual white shirt, black plants and gray overcoat. I grab Jagged Frost from its place next to my desk and attach it to my left hip. I also open up a drawer in my desk and attach it to my left hip. I also open up a drawer in my desk and pull out a simple silver bracelet. I put it on my right wrist and test it by pumping a bit of Aura into it, causing a gauntlet of ice to form around my right arm. Satisfied with the catalyst, I disperse the gauntlet and exit my room on the first floor. I walk over to the kitchen, quickly grabbing some breakfast before going into the fridge and grabbing my lunch. Putting my lunch away in a rut sack on my back, I turn to the front door to leave. There was a note on the door.

_Daniel,_

_Please be home before dark tonight._

_Your Father and I would like to see you every once and a while_

_-Mom_

'_I think I can manage that, maybe'_

I chuckle to myself a bit before opening the front door and leaving my house. I walk down the semi-dark but still empty streets of my town, the sun just barely beginning to rise.

As I'm walking, I start to plan beyond the usual idea of how I'm going to outsmart the terribly trained militia that were either half-asleep, asleep or hungover during the early morning shift and about how I would sneak past them late into the evening and their drunken furor. I know from some research that Beacon's initiation involves possible encounters with high level Grimm, far beyond the Beowolves and Ursa I was used to. I also know that said initiation created pairs that created teams of four that you would be in for the entire four years there. I sigh at that part, considering my utter lone wolf status gave me basically no social skills. Odds are that I'd have a harder time dealing with my teammates that the Grimm.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

_Alice_

*_drip_*

The sound of a single drop of water falling down and onto the floor pulls me out of my hazy daydream. Focusing my eyes, I realize that I am in a very familiar place; one that is outside the realm of reality. Looking around, I am greeted by this world's usual scenery: both of Remnant's moons in a sky bright with twilight, what looks like a thin layer of water whcih covers the ground as far as I can see and a single tree nearby. I stretch my arms out behind my head, the quiet poop of my joints being accompanied by a flash of lightning and a roar of thunder off in the distance. I always seem to forget the true nature of this world when I occasionally wander here. The nature that it is a reflection of my inner self, as looking down into the perfect mirror that is the water on the floor and seeing myself with dead, empty eyes and surrounded by a malice-filled aura always proves this truth to me.

Ignoring my darkness, I walk over to the lone tree in the distance. My feet seem to glide over the water, not causing a single ripple to shatter the reflection of the star-filled sky. What does cause the occasional ripples are the small droplets of water that fall from the sky. I make it over to the trunk of the young tree, noting the small amount of growth that the grey trunk made as well as the lengthening of the branches that hold dark leaves. I lay down on the ground below the tree, resting my back on one of the roots and my head on the trunk. I close my eyes and appreciate the relaxing wind that gently flows through this peaceful world. I remind myself of just how far I've come, changing from the endless maelstrom and tital waves, that existed in the past, to the clear sky and occasional drop of water of the present.

As nice as it is to be here, I remember what I was doing before I visitied here. I'm actually on my way to Beacon currently and, being bored by the long flight, ended up drifting away from reality. I sigh. I figure I really should be getting back as I can hear the faint report of a nearby television. Something about one Roman Torchwick... Oh well. I bite my lip and wait for the sensation of blood to bring me back to my senses.

I blink once and my peaceful relaxations are clashed against the interior of the Dust-powered cruiser I'm currently in. The assorted "oohs" and "aahs" of the students that have never seen Vale from above before cements my mental place in reality. An announcement sounds from the loudspeaker that we'll be at Beacon in about five minutes. This is where I decide to take my leave from the rest of the passengers and I make my way to the other side of the ship, where our equipment is located. I make sure to take light, reserved steps to help compensate for the missing 50 pounds of equipment that would usually be strapped to each of my legs. I locate my Boxes and attach them to the two identical bands of heavily-reinforced leather, each with a piece of metal that looked like the socket of a joint, that are wrapped around my thight.

I had managed to find my solution to keeping my ever-active Aura in check during my time as a merc in Vale. At first, it seemed the wrappings around both my arms, enhanced by the Suppression Glyphs that were etched into my forearms and the actual Seal I managed to stitch into the inside of my trench coat over my back, would be enough to keep my Aura at bay. And it did, for the most part, do its job, but like most Seals it wasn't absolute. I noticed the small amounts of Aura working its way through my body every now and then but while the average sell-sword didn't have ability to notice something as small as this, I would be spending the next four years with teens that were at least adapt with understanding Aura. Considering that most of my "classmates" were pubescents eager to prove themselves against something with more backbone than the average Grimm, I basically left a wolf pack and wandered into an Ursa den. Except I had shown up right after winter hibernation and they were hungry.

This is, of course, where my Boxes come into play. The magnetic "joints" that connected them to me allowed for the rather discrete utilization of the trickles of Aura that escaped me. The metal absorbed the electricity which it then used to power the equipment when needed. The power could be used, for example, to power the electric transceiver that I had implemented into each of the Heavy Barrel Adaptive Rifles that were hidden in the tops of the Boxes save for the barrel, naturally.

After checking to make sure none of my equipment was damaged during the flight, I adjust the Boxes so that the handles of all four blades are pointed up. This allows me to fit my coat over the over-sized sheaths, keeping them out of sight. With my training weights back where they should be, I prepare to depart seeing as the ship is beginning its final approach.

*_CRASH_*

I spin around on my heel to see what caused the massive commotion behind me. I see a man that is dressed like a butler, a young woman who might as well have been the polar opposite of myself and a large black case that once held several vials of Dust. It now only held three vials, seeing as the remaining were scattered over the floor in front of me. The girl in white is in the middle of a verbal assault against who I can assume is her butler, considering how he's just standing there with his head held down in shame, as I casually walk over to the vials. Checking each one for cracks, I grab a few of them in my hands and walk over to the case on the ground. I place the vials on the floor and pick up the case, placing it next to the vials.

"You use standard Dust sorting protocol, right?" I ask.

The girl looks at me, her face contorting between anger and confusion, "Excuse me?"

"I'll take that as a yes, Ms. Schnee" I say. I put the rest of the vials in the case and close it.

Weiss is still just standing there, attempting to come up with something to respond to my actions. "Just what do you thing you're doing?"

The butler attempts to pick up the case and move it back onto the trolley but considering how badly he's shaking, I grab the case and move it myself.

"I understand that you're probably used to being around people that you know but in a place like this," I stand up and look directly into her eyes, "you really shouldn't treat people like this considering you don't know what any one person is capable of".

"I know enough about those I interact with!" Weiss says this with an air of confidence but I can hear the panic seeping through.

I grin at her, "Oh really? Then who am I?"

Weiss' composure nearly cracks. "I'm not just going to stand here while some _commoner_ goes ahead and lectures me!"

_Commoner? Phff_. I barely manage to stifle my laugh. _If only I was_.

"Lecture? Nah, try something along the lines of a life lesson" I say, turing around and walking away. "Take it or leave it"

Weiss Schnee. Not exactly the pride of the human race but her family is up there. Being the heiress of the largest Dust corporation in Remnant probably didn't help her already less than saintly heart, but its not like there isn't a chance of her improving. After all, not condeming people for the cards they were dealt was what allowed me to break out of my old assassin ways. Specifically, not condemning Weiss was what changed me. While my doubts and, more so, regrets about my actions were there already, it was looking through the file of the person who was to be my next target that was my final straw against the Dusk.

I exit the ship and begin to walk into Beacon. I slip around the crowd of students, most of them with their mouths agape from the view. The research I had already done didn't quite do the place justice but I manage to keep my jaw on my face.

It takes all of a minute for me to realize just how ridiculously out of place I am seeing as almost all the other girls are clustered in groups, either chatting away, comparing outfits or drooling at some of the guys. I seem to stick out like a sore thumb with my dark clothes where as almost everyone around me are strutting around in brightly colored threads.

Orientation is going to be starting soon but not quick enough for me to just stand around by myself.

*_BOOM_*

The explosion from somewhere behind me is loud enough to make every other freshman almost jump out of their shoes. The only other person to not flinch was someone I barely got a glimpse of: a guy with silvery hair. Our eyes meet for a second but I turned and used the confusion of the crowd to walk away.

_Daniel_

It had only been for a brief moment, but it was long enough. The look in her eyes was the same as some veteran soldiers I've met in my time. Throw in the fact that she was the only other person in the crowd to not flinch from the small explosion that came from the landing area and I could tell that whoever that girl was, she had years of experience fighting with whatever weapons she had hidden under that coat. I file a mental note to watch out for her and walk off to where orientation should begin shortly.

"Sir, looks like Command's prediction was correct. I've got visual confirmation on the target"

"Confirmation on Zeus?"

"Correct, Zeus is right where our informants said she'd be going"

"Roger radioing it in now, standby" "This is Recon team 3 to Base with visual confirmation Zeus, I repeat visual confirmation on Zeus, over"

"Solid copy Recon team, hold position until further orders, out"

**A/N: I apologize for how slow this story has been progressing but things will be taking off sooner rather than later. Feel free to review and give me feedback.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

_Daniel_

Well, that was an... interesting... orientation. It certainly beat most hunter-in-training speeches with its complete lack of the usual "you're humanity's future" bullshit that speakers commonly say. After all, fighting Grimm isn't the romantic adventure that a good amount of trainees think it is. I remember a friend telling me that you could tell who the rookies were based on how much their eyes twinkled.

Walking to the hall in which they informed us we'd be staying the night, I keep an eye out for the girl from earlier. I'm still not sure if I should be concerned with someone who looks like an assassin, and who carries herself even more so like one, being on campus. _Well she is here to be a Huntress, that should be reason enough. Right?_

I walk into the hall and take a moment to survey the scene in front of me. Most of the guys have either changed into their sleepwear or are in the middle of doing it, _in the middle of the fucking room_. I sigh, realizing that decency wasn't a requirement on the application as I see a few half-naked guys and a slightly larger group of girls drooling off in the corner. Looking around some more, I locate my bag and pick it up, then walk off to where I can guess the changing rooms are.

Off goes my jacket, jeans and shirt as I change into my usual sleepwear. I stop in the middle of it, realizing just how little my thin undershirt and boxers would cover. Searching through my bag, I grab a pair of gym shorts and throw them on. Satisfied that I won't be known as the "one to bare it all" on my first night here, I stuff my orriginal clothing into my bag and sling it over my shoulder, walking back to the hall.

Ignoring one ridiculously predatorily looking blonde who seemed to show some "interest", I set up my sleeping bag and, after placing my bag off to the side, prepare to hit the hay early. Of course that's right when I turn and come face to face with a guy with a massive grin on his face.

"Hey there" he says. He's slightly bigger than I am with short brown hair... that seems to be caught in a non-existant breeze.

"Can I help you?" I reply. I attempt to add an edge to it that would suggest I'd rather he piss off than talk.

"Ouch. No need to be so cold, I just came over for a quick chat. Nice scar by the way" he points at my chest.

I look downwards and curse internally. My undershirt is currently giving him a nice view of a scar that runs from just below my right collarbone to just above my heart. "You're being a bit rude, don't you think? You haven't even told me your name"

"Oh my bad, it's Thomas. You mind me asking where you got it?" He offers his hand for a shake.

"Daniel, and I was fighting a pack of Beowolves" I say, attempting to end the conversation there but still accepting the handshake none the less. I notice that his hands are rough from holding some kind of weapon and I can see his muscles through his long sleeve shirt.

"Beowolves?" He chuckles, "What do you not wear body armor while fighting?"

"No, it's too restrictive for me" I reach over to grab my bag, not exactly sure why I'm showing this guy my stuff. "But I did come up with an alternative" I say, pulling out the silver bracelet. Putting it on, I concentrate on my center and after a bit of Aura goes through it, the catalyst forms a ice-woven chest plate around myself.

"I've heard about people who were able to physically manifest their Auras, but those who used it as armor usually burned through their Aura just keeping it in shape"

I disperse the armor before taking off and showing Tom the bracelet. "That's where this comes in. I managed to make this bracelet a catalyst of sorts and it's able to "recall" ways to "shape" my Aura. It's also helpful that my Aura tends to crystalize when I stop adding more to it" I stop myself here and inwardly curse again at how talkative I get when conversations are about fighting,

"Man, you must have had some teacher to get you to that level of control"

I look back at Tom. "I was self-taught, actually. Same thing for combat"

Tom looks at me in a mix of shock and awe. He's about to make a comment but he's interrupted by the lights going out. Taking it as a sign to get some much need rest, I send Tom on his way and quickly pass out on my sleeping bag.

_Alice_

Leaving orientation, I follow the flow of students out into the hall before ducking around a corner. Out of sight and mind, I sneak off and find my way up to the roof. I find the door unlocked and wander over to the far corner behind a raised portion of the roof. I lean against the handrail and enjoy the view of the nearby Emerald forest, the beautiful night sky and the constant breeze sweeping through campus.

I let my mind waner and it comes to a stop at the orientation that just occurred. I finally got to see Ozpin and I figure my suspicions are more or less confirmed. Just how much Ozpin knows is up in the air but if his speeches are anything to go off of, I can just assume that he knows ever meal I've eaten since I joined the Dusk. I also have to guess that the woman standing next to Ozpin, who was glaring a hole through my skull during the orientation, knows. I'm going to need to figure if the rest of the staff here know about me, and if they do just how much they know. I wouldn't be surprised if Ozpin had some plan to "deal" with me if I got out of hand.

This doesn't reallly faze me seeing as death has never been an alien presence in my years, both literally and figuratively; seeing as He's currently 500 meters behind me glaring. Maybe I should introduce the secretary to Death, they'd probably bond over seeing who could kill me faster with their eyes. I can't stop myself from grinning over the stupid image in my mind.

I let my mind wander again as I keep looking around in the cool, crisp air and...

"Sir, how long did Base say Assault Team 7 would take to get here?"

"They should be arriving in about half an hour, why?"

"Sir, I've got visual on Zeus. She's by herself and in a remote area where we should be able to quietly take her"

"Where is she?"

"Up on that rooftop over there"

"Got it, I'll radio the Assault Team" "Recon Team to Assault Team. You boys better triple time your asses over here, we got the target in prime position for neutralizaiton"

_Alice_

... my eyes stop on the tree-line of the Emerald Forest. To anyone, nothing looked out of place. To the keen observer, the shadows looked a bit darker than usual. To a Shadow walker, I see a scout of a Recon Team with a pair of _fucking_ _binoculars_ pointed at me. The gears in my head start clicking together and I race to make a plan that will at least cause bloodshed to be done in a discrete location.

I look down at my watch and dryly note the current time of 12:50. I had been daydreaming for far too long and had let my guard down. I remeber my Dusk training and realize I only had 10 minutes to deal with a very real threat to myself and any potential bystanders. It is a favorite Dusk operative tactic to commence an operation at 1:00 AM and my internal clock is already ticking.

"Status report!"

"It appears that Zeus may have fallen asleep on the roof, I saw her yawn and lie down two minutes ago"

"Good, the Assault Team is five muntes out, hold your position here until then"

"Roger that"

"Alright boys, the operation will begin shortly. First off, roll call! Sound off!"

"Romeo 1 reporting"

"Romeo 2 is here"

"Romeo 3... bored but alive"

...

"Romeo 4?"

...

"Romeo 4 report!"

...

"Sir! I think I found AAHH!"

"OH SHIT! Hostile! AHH!"

"Weapons out! Weapons out! GYAHH!"

"YOU BASTA... ahh..."

"Romeo 3 to Base! Romeo 3 to Base! We were... ugh..."

"This is Base. Romeo 3 what is your status?"

...

"Romeo 3? Report?"

...

"Recon Team 3 respond immediately!"

...

"Shit. Assault Team 7, something went south with the Recon Team. Get to the rendezvous and locate them. Out"

... ... ...

"This is Bulldog reporting, Base, we've found the Recon Team. Or rather, what was the Recon Team"

"Bulldog I need you to be more conclusive with your report"

"All five members of the Recon Team are K.I.A.. Half of them didn't manage to draw their weapons before they were cut down"

"Was it a Grimm attack?"

"Negative, way too precise to be Grimm. Most of the members were killed in a single blow. Those who weren't didn't last much longer from what we can tell"

"*sigh* Alright, Assault Team 7 you are to report back to Base immediately. We're calling the operation off"


End file.
